Eleven Hours
by chellethebelle
Summary: Written for Layla Reyne and the Delena Holiday Exchange. Two strangers meet on a transatlantic flight from Europe to California. Can true love be found in 10 hours at 30,000 feet? AU/AH


**Hello everyone! Here is my final submission to the DE Holiday Exchange! A huge thanks to Sar (badboysarebest) for putting this on every year. It's a blast to get all the authors together.**

**This prompt was by the one and only, Layla Reyne: **_Damon and Elena are strangers seated next to each other on a transatlantic flight from Europe to California. Can true love be found in 10+ hours at 30,000 feet? AU/H, but otherwise, feel free to run wild with character background, reasons for travel, arrival/departure cities, mile high fun and if there's a DE future after they land. Fluff, angst, I love it all. I look forward to reading :)_

**Another thank you goes to the prompter herself for beta'ing this for me. She rocks and GO READ HER STORIES. They are amazing. **

**Okay, enjoy!**

* * *

Boarding:

"Attention Air France passengers. At this time, we'd like to invite our first-class passengers on board Flight 1864, with direct service to Los Angeles, to board at Gate B7," the voice said over the PA system.

With a sigh, Elena Gilbert rose from her seat in the boarding area. It was going to be a long flight back to the States, so she'd sprung for the first class seat. As it were, she'd spent her entire life savings on this trip. Why not go full-hog?

She was thinking about _it_ again. She'd told herself from the moment her best friend, Caroline, had dropped her off at the airport two weeks ago that _it_ was not allowed to cross her mind any longer. _It_ had already taken up so much space in her mind for the past six months, the least she could do was give herself a break on her trip. But now reality was closing in. In fact, she was boarding an eleven-hour flight straight to reality.

She hefted her carryon and her purse over her shoulder and strode to the gate to board. Even she had to admit that the stiletto heels were a bit much, but they were like her security blanket, reminding her to keep her guard up, to be strong. Plus, she'd spent seven hundred dollars on them in Milan, so of course she was going to wear them. Hell, she'd even sleep in them.

Elena gave the man scanning tickets a terse nod before striding down the jet way. The flight attendant at the door to the plane greeted her with a large smile - the kind reserved for the passengers who'd paid a small fortune to ride in first class. She waved the woman off; she was competent enough to find her own seat. Her brain worked just fine, thank you very much.

She briefly glanced at the dark-haired man sitting in the seat next to hers as she lifted her carryon bag into the overhead compartment. Just as she got it in place, someone - clearly in a rush to get on a plane that still had a hundred other passengers to load - tried to squeeze behind her, sending her toppling toward the man in her row.

His head snapped up right before his hands shot out to catch her hips, preventing her from falling across his lap.

"Whoa, I gotcha," he said, his voice deep and smooth. A sound that made her spine tingle a bit.

"I'm sorry," Elena mumbled, trying to scramble away from his hands. "Someone is clearly eager to hurry up and wait." She pushed her hair out of her eyes and took a deep breath before pointing next to him. "That's actually my seat."

"Oh! Welcome, then," he said with a smile, showing off a mouthful of perfectly straight, white teeth. He stood and attempted to assist her to her seat, but she waved him off.

"I'm Damon," he introduced himself, after they'd both sat down.

"Elena."

She took his proffered hand, intending to give it a brief shake, but that went straight out the tiny oval window when Damon's skin touched hers. His hand was warm, his grip firm and a jolt beelined up her arm and to her chest, making her insides warm and her heart stutter.

She quickly withdrew her hand, blinking down at the tingling appendage, before looking up and meeting a pair of ice blue eyes.

Holy shit.

They were the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. How had she not noticed them before? A woman could drown in those eyes and be happy until her last breath.

But that woman wouldn't be her, Elena reminded herself, shaking her head and settling back into her seat. Relationships, love, companionship, those were things that she couldn't allow herself to dream about. Not anymore. Getting close to people only led to heartache. And pain. And regret. She'd learned that long ago when her parents died in a tragic car accident that only she survived. And she'd been reminded of it six months ago when life as she knew it came crashing down on her. Again.

She shook her head and dug into her large purse, finding her earphones and her iPod. It was going to be a long flight. Luckily, she'd crafted the perfect playlist for every hour of it.

* * *

Hour 1:

He was never going to survive this flight, Damon Salvatore thought to himself, as the scent of the gorgeous brunette next to him wafted into his nose for the umpteenth time since they'd taken off. He couldn't remember any time in his life when he'd reacted so strongly from just a woman's hand in his.

He wanted to talk to her, wanted to see those dark brown eyes again, but she'd fully tuned him out. It was probably for the best. His life and his career didn't give him much time to pursue women beyond one-night stands. Those women knew the score - no strings, no emotion, no attachment. But the woman sitting next to him - Elena - had something brewing behind her eyes, something more. In that moment when their gazes had locked, he'd seen the walls in her eyes, doing very little to mask the pain that burned there. He was curious and that curiosity alone was reason enough not to get involved. No matter how gorgeous she was.

Just the thought of her had him glancing over again, finding her hidden behind a curtain of chocolate hair. Deciding that it would probably be best for him to keep his dick in his pants, he settled back in the seat with a sigh and closed his eyes, letting the vibrations of the plane lull him to sleep.

* * *

Hour 2:

Elena kept her eyes closed and her hair down, forming a barrier between her and Damon, as she listened to song after perfectly picked song and studiously avoided him. He was just a handsome man sitting next to her on the plane. Nothing more. That whole skin-tingle-heart-stutter thing was a fluke, her anxiety at what was waiting in California getting the better of her. There was no reason to think any more of it, no hope in dreaming that it could even be something more.

That didn't stop her, though, from peeking through her hair every now again at his sleeping form. He was lounged back in this seat with his hands folded over what she imagined were perfectly toned abs hiding underneath his dress shirt. And his face, turned slightly toward her, was soft and relaxed, his lips slightly parted. Lips she was having a hard time not dreaming about – how they tasted, how they felt – no matter what she told herself.

Maybe she'd allow herself at least the next few hours to dream. She was still technically on vacation after all.

* * *

Hour 3:

Damon could feel her eyes on him. They were studying him. That was confirmed when he cracked his open and found those big brown doe eyes focused on his lips. He grinned and they shot up to meet his, growing wide, as her cheeks flushed bright red. She quickly turned away, hiding behind that veil of hair again.

He smiled to himself and closed his eyes once more, only opening them a little later when he felt Elena trying to climb over him to get to the aisle. The plane bucked as it hit some turbulence, knocking Elena off balance, forcing her to catch herself on either side of his headrest behind his head. The position gave him a prime view of her cleavage - not that he looked.

Okay, he totally looked. But only for a second. Or two.

"Sorry," she breathed as he helped her into the aisle. He shamelessly watched her ass as she walked to the bathroom.

There was no way he'd survive this flight without speaking to her.

* * *

Hour 4:

"You didn't!" Damon gasped, his eyes wide, totally enthralled in her story.

When she'd gotten back from the restroom, he'd engaged her in conversation before she could go back to ignoring him. They'd been going back and forth for the past hour, telling stories of their respective childhoods.

"I did!" she replied, feeling herself smile, something she'd rarely done the past six months, even on her vacation. "He almost murdered me."

"I can't believe you shaved off your father's mustache in his sleep," Damon said, disbelief coloring his tone, as he slouched back into his seat.

Elena giggled. _Giggled_. Like she was some sort of schoolgirl. "If it wasn't for my mom telling him that she liked him better without it, I would not be here to tell the tale."

"I think you win," he decided with a laugh.

"I don't know," she replied thoughtfully. "That story about you convincing your brother that an evil baker lived under his bed was pretty hilarious."

"The best part was that my mom played along," Damon said, his smile softening as he spoke of his mother. It was a look that had her insides tingling. Maybe it wasn't just her anxiety. Every time he looked at her, laughed, smiled, or breathed, those damn tingles would take over her body. What part of 'swearing off men' did her body not understand?

Cursing her heart for not obeying orders, she responded, "Your mom sounds awesome."

He sighed. "Yeah, she was."

Well, now she felt like an ass. "I'm so sorry."

He turned his head toward her, nailing her with those baby blue eyes, as the air between them lost its fun and carefree feeling.

"It's okay, she died a long time ago and left me with nothing but good memories," he said.

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. He did not just say that.

"That's exactly what I say," she gasped. "I lost both of my parents in a car accident when I was seventeen, and I've always told people the same thing."

Silence fell between them and Elena wanted to look away from those impossibly blue eyes, but she was trapped in his gaze. Whatever was between them - this _thing_ that she felt and he obviously did too - was real and scary as hell. She wanted to run far, far away from it. She swore to herself she wouldn't get attached, that any attachment would only end in pain.

But, a little voice in her mind reminded her that the moment they landed, they'd part ways. They both knew it. So this wasn't a commitment, or an attachment. It was an attraction, one that already had an expiration date before anything in her life factored in.

Wasn't that what her trip was about? Taking chances and enjoying life to its fullest because she'd been a prisoner for the past six months. She wasn't going to pass this chance up. Once she landed, her life would be in someone else's hands. But right now, it was in hers.

She might as well take advantage of the gorgeous man life handed to her for as long as she could.

* * *

Hour 5:

Damon was being a creep. He knew he was, but he couldn't stop himself. Elena looked so angelic in her sleep. The hard lines around her eyes smoothed out and the firm set to her lips relaxed. He could tell she'd been carrying around a heavy weight for a long time, but in sleep, all evidence of it was gone. She looked almost vulnerable.

He wanted to know her story, wanted to know what she was doing in Europe and where she was going after they landed. He'd never had a connection to a woman like he had with Elena. She made him laugh and smile more in the past five hours than he had in the past year. In his field of work, he saw too much sadness, too many times when life didn't go the way he wanted it, and he felt too much pressure to be perfect, to perform without a flaw.

But there was something about the idea that Elena didn't know who he was or what he did for a living. That she may never know. Would never expect things from him, expect perfection, like so many in his life did. He could just enjoy her the way she came and she could do the same for him.

Elena stirred, drawing him from his own thoughts and distracting him with the lock of hair that fell over her face. Before he could even think about his actions, he reached over and gently tucked it back behind her ear, letting his fingers comb the length of her hair. It was softer than he'd imagined it would be.

He was so focused on her hair that he didn't notice that she'd woken, or that she was staring at him, until his fingers had trailed to the ends of her hair. Only then did he look up and find those big doe eyes locked on him. Then he was stuck. He couldn't look away if he wanted to. He was caught in something that felt a lot like gravity.

Leaning in slowly, he was unable to stop himself, his eyes drifting down to his intended target. The closer he got, the more he could feel her sweet breath fan across his face. When it hitched, he froze, just a hairsbreadth away from her lips. He wasn't going to force this. If Elena wanted this as much as he did, she would have to show him.

Her eyes danced between his, wide and sparkling, before they dropped down to his mouth. He saw the moment she made a decision, and when her eyes drifted shut, he knew it was the choice he'd wanted all along.

His eyes closed the moment she touched her mouth to his. It was just a soft brush of their lips, but when he backed away, refusing to push her too far, her hand wrapped around his neck, tugging him back to her. Her lips opened over his, giving him his first real taste of her, and he couldn't get enough. He needed more. Tracing the seam of her lips, she opened to him fully, letting him in and tentatively moving her tongue against his.

A groan clawed its way out of his throat as he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her closer, burying his free hand in her hair. She felt so good in his arms and with every move he made, she reacted. She was so fucking responsive that his dick was getting hard from her reactions alone. The way she pulled him closer. The way her fingers gripped his shirt and her nails dug into his skin. The way she sighed into his mouth and breathed him in.

Their seats jolted, causing them to jump apart. He glanced around, making sure there weren't too many witnesses to their make out, but all he saw was the dark cabin and sleeping passengers.

When he turned back to her, Elena's eyes were wide and staring at the seat in front of her, a hand drifting up to her lips.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She looked over at him in confusion, but that look soon melted into a sexy-as-hell smirk.

"Don't be," she whispered back, fisting her hand into his shirt and yanking him forward, taking his mouth in a hard kiss.

Aw, hell. He was in trouble now.

* * *

Hour 6:

Was she really doing this? She couldn't blame it on the alcohol either because she'd only had that one drink when they took off.

Nope, she had been stone cold sober when she'd crawled over Damon's lap and brazenly whispered into his ear to meet her in the bathroom.

So here she was, wringing her fingers in the small space, as he carefully opened the door. Though, when she saw the heat in his eyes, all of her nerves vanished.

She opened her mouth to say something - anything, though surely it'd be idiotic - but he silenced her by taking her face in his hands and kissing her hard and wet. And so, so good. With every movement of his lips against hers, her inhibitions melted away and she kissed him back, her urgency growing.

He seemed to feel the same, lifting her up by the ass and grinding himself between her legs, only ramping up her need. She was sure that the hard evidence of his arousal through his jeans was only a preview. One she liked very much. He backed away, pushing his hands up her skirt and tugging down her panties.

The moment they were gone, she brought him back to her with a hand around his neck. He kissed his way down the column of her throat, taking her breasts in his hands, while hers frantically worked the buttons of his shirt, anxious to feel his skin under her fingers. With every swipe of his thumbs over her nipples, the fire in her burned hotter and the need between her legs screamed for attention.

Reading her like a book, Damon's fingers drifted down her chest and belly, trailed up her inner thigh and dove right in. He shuddered a breath into her neck when he hit the wet heat there. Her head dropped back on a moan as his thumb honed in on her clit and two of his fingers dipped inside her. Her entire body focused on what he was doing between her legs. He drove her to the edge again and again, but never let her fall. She had to bite her lip to keep her whimpers quiet.

She pulled open Damon's shirt, scraping her nails down his chest, straight to the fly of his jeans. She didn't waste a second getting the button popped open and the zipper down. She tugged his pants and briefs down just enough to free him.

She felt her eyes go wide as she got an eye-full of him, fully erect and nearly pulsing with need. She met his eyes and he gave her a cocky smirk. Cocky indeed.

The smirk disappeared the moment she wrapped her hand around him and stroked, coaxing a pearl of moisture from the tip.

"I need to be in you," Damon breathed, his voice deep and husky with desire. A sound that made her shiver with excitement.

"I need it too," she agreed readily. "Please, Damon."

In mere seconds, he had himself sheathed with a condom and then sheathed inside of her. He stretched her almost to her limit, to that perfect place of pleasure and pain. She wrapped him up with all four limbs as his hands dug into her ass, pulling her against him as he thrust forward.

With every stroke, she climbed higher. She couldn't help burying her face in the skin of his neck, breathing him in and occasionally tasting him. He was the ultimate aphrodisiac. The more of him she got, the more she wanted. The more she needed. So much so that she felt like she would go insane without it.

"Harder," she begged, her breath hitching with every slam of his hips against hers.

His heavy breaths in her ear mixed with the sound of their skin slapping together was an erotic soundtrack in the tiny bathroom.

Bending his knees, Damon hit a new place inside her, taking her from ready to _ready_ in a single stroke.

"Oh, God," she moaned, sinking her teeth into his neck to muffle the sounds of her release as it washed through her.

With just a few more hard thrusts, Damon groaned his release into her mouth.

As they both came down from their orgasms, his kiss turned soft and sweet, before his lips eventually left hers. He backed away, just enough to meet her eyes.

The moment their gazes met, Elena couldn't hold back the giggle that bubbled up from her throat.

"I can't believe I just did that."

Damon smiled through a chuckle, still not disengaging from her.

"Welcome to the Mile High Club."

* * *

Hour 7:

Elena closed her eyes and tried to focus on the music, not the throbbing between her legs or the man who was responsible for it.

She'd never done the random hook up thing before, let alone on a plane, so she wasn't really sure how she was supposed to act. Sex with Damon felt like a hell of a lot more than just a hook up, but what did she know.

So she'd returned to her seat with her head down and had her earphones in before Damon retook his seat. But that didn't mean she wasn't aware of him. Every time he shifted, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and on more than a few occasions , she caught those blue eyes looking back at her.

Those eyes sent a jolt through her, a jolt that she didn't want to feel. A jolt that she'd convinced herself she'd never feel again. She had to remind herself over and over that she couldn't afford to get involved with someone, that it would only lead to heartbreak for everyone involved. Once this plane landed in LA, they'd go their separate ways.

With a sigh, she tried to focus on her music and clear her mind as her eyes drifted shut.

* * *

Hour 8:

Damon smiled to himself, unable to help it. Elena had finally fallen asleep after an hour of her staring at him and then pretending she hadn't been. In sleep, her head had fallen onto his shoulder. But it wasn't until she nuzzled into his neck that he had to seriously fight his urge to smile in triumph. He failed, obviously.

He knew she was having a hard time handling the fact that she'd just had sex with himin the airplane bathroom, so he gave her the space she clearly needed to sort herself out. He figured she'd come around eventually, but he was surprised she'd held out for so long. He mentally added 'stubborn' to her list of attributes.

Yet, she couldn't avoid him in her sleep as he was learning, so he did what he knew he shouldn't do. He slouched down in his seat, laid his head against the top of hers and let himself drift to sleep.

XXXXX

Hour 10:

The shaking of the plane roused Elena from her sleep. The first thing she noticed was that her head was resting on Damon's shoulder and that she was drooling.

_Oh my God!_

She quickly pulled away while simultaneously wiping at her mouth, trying to get rid of every trace of drool. When she sat up, Damon's head snapped up as well.

"Hey," he said in a sleep (sexy) voice. His eyes were still half-mast and adorable, just like his tousled hair.

"Hi," she breathed, feeling her cheeks heat when she noticed a small wet stain on his shirt.

"You doing okay?" he asked, running a hand through his hair and tempting her to run her own fingers through it again.

"Yeah," she answered, shaking her head. "Yeah I am."

"Good," he whispered right before he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against hers.

God, she couldn't get enough of his lips moving over hers.

He pulled back all too soon, resting his forehead against hers as she fought to steady her heart rate.

With a deep breath that sounded a bit pained, he pulled away, facing her with one shoulder pressed into his seat. "So where do you go after we land?"

She froze. She couldn't help it. The place she was going after they landed was her own personal hell. Back to a life of "what-ifs" and "maybes."

"Sorry, too personal?" His eyes were downcast and she saw something she hadn't seen on his face before - red seeping into his cheeks.

"No, no," she said quickly. "I was just surprised. I'll be staying in California for a while with my brother and his wife. What about you?"

"Back to work as usual for me," he replied with a sigh that told her he was dreading it more than he let on.

"It always sucks when reality sets back in," she remarked, knowing the truth of that statement all too well.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It does."

* * *

Hour 11:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be making out descent into Los Angeles International Airport shortly. Please position all chairs in the upright position, make sure your trays are secured and your seat belts are fastened. The current time is 5:30 pm and the temperature is 74 degrees."

Damon's heart dropped a bit at the pilot's announcement.

He was a monumental idiot.

All along, he'd told himself no to get attached and what did he do? He got attached. Like an idiot. He didn't even know her last name, what she did, where she was from, and yet somehow he wanted to follow her off this plane like a lost puppy.

He was worse than an idiot.

He was a _fucking_ idiot.

He glanced over at Elena and noticed that she was white-knuckling the armrest.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked, peeling her hand off of the armrest and holding it in both of his.

"No," she answered, staring straight ahead with her head pressed back into the headrest. "I hate landing."

"We're going to be fine. He got us over the ocean safely. I trust him with the landing," Damon said, about to release her hand when hers tightened in his, making a clear statement that she wasn't ready to let go.

He held her hand through the whole landing, drawing comforting circles on the back of it with his thumb. The smile she gave him once they were steadily taxiing their way to their arrival gate blew him away. But as the flight attendant announced their gate number and thanked them for flying, her expression turned sad. He shouldn't be excited that she didn't want to leave him either. He should dread it. He never associated with women who got attached easily.

They disembarked in silence, but he didn't hesitate to take her hand as they walked up the jet way and through concourse. He didn't let go, even as they were standing around the baggage claim carousel.

"How long will you be in California?" Damon asked, as he set Elena's suitcase down in front of her.

"I'm not sure yet," she answered, not meeting his eyes. He could see the sadness she'd been carrying when she got on the plane was back. Only now, it seemed to have multiplied.

He shifted on his feet. "Maybe we could do dinner?"

She hesitated. "Maybe."

The pause before her answer told him all he needed to know.

"Well, I'll let you get to your family," he said, trying his hardest to keep his voice neutral.

"Damon!" she called, grabbing his arm before he could walk away. "I'm sorry. It's just, I'm not on vacation anymore either. There are... things that I don't know how they'll turn out."

He turned to her fully, stepping close and wrapping one arm around her waist while his other hand cupped her cheek.

"If anyone gets that, it's me," he said in a low voice. "You do what you have to do and do it knowing that I've never met anyone like you and doubt I ever will."

"Thank you, Damon," she whispered, just before his lips met hers. He kissed her sweet, but long and wet, trying to tell her how he felt without words.

Then, before he lost the last of his willpower, he turned and walked away, praying that maybe one day he'd see her again.

* * *

The next day:

Elena sighed heavily as she stared up at the giant UCLA Medical Center. Today was the day she'd been dreading for months. But it was her last resort and her only option if she had any hope of living past thirty.

It seemed that brain tumors didn't care about education, volunteer service, or past tragedies. When her biopsy came back abnormal, the tumor proved that it wasn't affected by chemotherapy or radiation while the rest of her body was. Thankfully, it wasn't strong enough to take all of her hair.

With her younger brother's encouragement, she scoured the country for an oncology group that would be willing to attempt to operate and remove the tumor completely before it spread to the rest of her body. It was a risky surgery, one that didn't have very much data, and what little data there was didn't look very promising. But if she was going to die anyway, what would be the harm in trying?

So she'd found a group at UCLA willing to do it and emailed the assisting nurse. After faxing medical records, her appointment was made and all she had to do was wait. So instead of counting down the days until she knew if she'd live or die, she blew all of her money on an extravagant trip to Europe.

Elena walked into the cancer center and was taken into surgery prep right away. She filled out page after page of paperwork while a nurse worked around her, getting IV's set up and - as Elena cringed - her head shaved. She wished she had a hand to hold, but she'd insisted that she do this alone. Though, she had no doubt that, against her wishes, her brother Jeremy and his wife, Bonnie, had driven into the parking lot after dropping her off and were now sitting patiently in the waiting room.

She sat on the gurney, alone in the sterile room, waiting to meet the surgeon in whose hands she was putting her life.

She was working on breathing steadily when she heard the courtesy knock on the door before it was slowly pushed open. She glanced up, anxious to meet her surgeon. She met his eyes and froze, only able to breathe out one word.

"Damon?"

* * *

**TEEHEE! *ducks***

**I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

**If you want, you can check out my other fic in progress, Uncovered, which I just updated today!**

**Also check out Layla Reyne's prompts for this year's A2A exchange on her profile. One will shatter you and the other will make you laugh. They are both phenomenal.**

**Follow me on twitter: rachellebelle08**

**Reviews are love! Thanks for reading!**


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